


the quiet and the confusion

by beanierose



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Anniversary, Birthday, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-09-24 23:36:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17110292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanierose/pseuds/beanierose
Summary: Patrick surprises David for his birthday and their one year anniversary.





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Christmas gift to my sweet friend Rory, who introduced me to this show. Love you, dumb-dumb.

 

_You are at once both the quiet and the confusion of my heart._

**Franz Kafka _, Letters to Felice_**

 

* * *

 

“Alright, so here’s the thing.”

Patrick rests his knuckles on the counter and leans onto them, lifting his torso up a little bit. He’s taken David by surprise, which is not exactly difficult to do. David turns to look at Patrick over his shoulder, his hands still busying at the display of moisturiser.

“I know you said you don’t want a renaissance fair.”

At that, he turns to face Patrick properly. He’s frowning, his mouth open in complaint, but Patrick ploughs right through whatever objections he might muster.

“But it’s one year, and it’s your birthday, so I feel doubly justified.”

“I don’t like this at _all_ ,” David says, but he’s smiling.

Patrick has purposefully positioned the counter between the two of them. His boyfriend is not an aggressive person, but Patrick is genuinely concerned he might come to some bodily harm here.

“So, I was thinking.” He is very careful to keep the tone of his voice casual, very careful not to meet David’s increasingly suspicious gaze. “Do you wanna go to New York tomorrow?”

David drops the container of moisturiser he was holding right into the middle of the display. It sends bottles and tubs careening everywhere, ruining the entire morning’s work, but he is already moving away from the chaos. In one fluid motion he comes around the counter and wraps his arms around Patrick’s shoulders, kissing him fiercely. There’s a frantic energy to it that Patrick does his best to soothe, his fingers gentling at the shell of David’s ear, the line of his jaw. When they break apart David’s eyes are pink with emotion.

“I love you.”

“So much,” Patrick says back.

It’s so like that day six months ago, when Patrick got to hear those words for the very first time. David looks a little stunned by it, still. It’s not something he tosses around very easily, not a habit he has ever really had the opportunity to form. Every time it leaves him shipwrecked afterwards.

“Explain, please.”

David is still clinging tight to Patrick, looking like he might fall down if he lets go.

“I heard all about your escape attempt a few years back. From Stevie. She’s actually taking us to the airport.” He leaves a pause for David’s witty aside about that but it never comes, so he continues. “When you were faced with the choice to go anywhere, you wanted to go to New York. So let’s go.”

David is growing rapidly more animated as the shock of it wears off. He removes his arms from around Patrick’s shoulders so he can wave them instead.

“How long?”

“Four days.”

“Who will watch the store?”

Patrick wrinkles his nose at that. It had been the biggest problem he’d had to contend with. When you live and work with your favourite person on earth, trying to take any time away with that person becomes a Chinese finger trap to decipher.

“One day each. Alexis. Your dad. Stevie. And then we’ll close for a day.”

“Couldn’t get my mom on board, huh?”

Patrick braces himself. He knows that it shouldn’t be a problem. He loves Mrs Rose, in spite of all rational thought. After all, she gave life to David. Still, he’s nervous.

“So here’s the thing about that, is that she’s coming with us.”

A sharp laugh escapes David. “Of course she is. I don’t even want to imagine the graphic and excruciating ways she would torture us if we got out of here without her.”

It’s not a million miles from how the actual conversation had gone. While David had been in the shower, Patrick had commandeered the rest of the Roses and asked whether they would mind if he whisked David away. There had been indignant noises of distress from Alexis mostly, but it hadn’t taken very much persuading to get everyone on board. Moira had sunk dramatically into a chair and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, aghast at the prospect of somebody not her getting out of Schitt’s Creek, even if only for a few days. His suggestion that David’s mother join them on the trip had been not exactly heartfelt, but he’s glad to have been able to get into Mrs Rose’s good graces.

“Is that. . .okay?”

“I guess.” David rolls his eyes and lets out an exaggerated sigh. Just as easily as it comes to him, all of the teasing dissipates and he threads his fingers through Patrick’s. “I don’t care who else comes. I can’t wait to visit the city with you.”

* * *

Patrick had been deeply, gnawingly concerned about only leaving David one day to pack. The general consensus had been that it would be best not to give him too much time to change his mind, that the time pressure would be the best thing for all involved. Nonetheless, he has to stifle a sigh of relief when David finally swings his bag into the trunk of Stevie’s car.

She’s heading into the city for a night to see her cousin, which is a huge reason why Patrick arranged for them all to leave today. He’s expressed his gratitude one thousand times already this morning, and he has arranged for a thank you gift basket to be waiting for Stevie on her return to the motel tomorrow.

Still.

“Thank you. Again. So much.”

“I’m literally going whether you’re in the car or not.” She’s flippant, but he feels the core of sincerity in it. Stevie lets him see the flit of tenderness across her face for just a second. Since day one, she’s been their biggest supporter. And also the person he relies on most when it comes to deciphering David. He is endlessly grateful.

Getting everyone actually into the car is another production all on its own. Stevie is in the driver’s seat already, her window rolled down and her elbow resting there while she waits.

“Mrs Rose, really. We’re happy for you to take the front seat.”

“If you insist, dear.” Moira waves a dismissive hand and arranges herself carefully in the passenger seat.

They’re going to have so much time these next four days, but Patrick is suddenly desperate for just a moment alone with David. He stops him before he can go around the back of the car.

“I’m so excited,” he confesses. He’s been trying to ShamWow all of David’s jittery anxiety about travelling, trying to project an aura of unflappable calm. For just a moment, though, he thinks it will be alright to let his enthusiasm come spilling out. “Our first trip.”

“I’m excited to get there.”

“Don’t worry, David.” Patrick darts in to press a kiss to David’s cheek, just flirting with the corner of his mouth. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Stevie honks the horn and they break apart to get in the car. It’s a four hour drive, nearly twice the length of the actual flight. From his seat in the rear passenger side, Patrick watches Stevie’s knuckles grow white. Moira is fiddling with the radio, trying to tune to a station that doesn’t fill the car with white noise. It’s irritating, definitely, but Patrick is so happy that he truly doesn’t care.

Something about being in the back seat feels mischievous, like giggling with his crush at the back of the classroom. David has elected to sit in the middle seat instead of on his own side. They bend their heads together, voices low to keep Moira out of earshot.

David is trying to create an itinerary of all the things he wants to do while they’re in the city. All of his old haunts that he wants to show Patrick. It’s much easier to just let him have at it, so Patrick simply offers his enthusiastic approval while David adds things to the app on his phone. Up front, Stevie is muttering the occasional sardonic remark under her breath. Mrs Rose is relishing having a captive audience and is regaling Stevie with what sounds like every single anecdote about New York that she has at her disposal.

After an hour or so, David slides back across to his own side. He has his headphones on and he’s gazing out of the window. Like this, Patrick can only see a shard of his face. Even just that one happy eye and the edge of a smile makes him grin in echo.

A little while later, they agree to grab some lunch from the next rest stop. Stevie needs a break, and they all could use some food. Patrick’s stomach has been gurgling its irritation for a while. The exit comes up ahead and Stevie flicks on the blinker and eases the car across a lane. Patrick is impressed. She’s a good driver, even with the distraction of Moira right there beside her.

When they all pile out of the car, Patrick hangs back just a little bit so he can take David’s hand in his. Stevie is careening off at an angle, trying to put as much space between herself and Moira as possible. Mrs Rose doesn’t seem to care about that, striding across the parking lot towards the building and all of the new people she gets to make a first impression on.

“I’m gonna drive the next bit. Give Stevie a break.”

David whines low in his throat and clutches Patrick’s hand tighter. “I want you to myself.”

“You’ve got me,” he laughs. “You’ve got me for four whole days with no distractions. Let me do this for our friend.”

“Fine,” David huffs.

It’s busy inside, and Patrick gets jostled by a man with five or six children trailing behind him in a line. When he turns his head he catches sight of David, his whole face scrunched up in distaste. A conspiratorial grin twitches at the seam of Patrick’s lips.

“Wow, look at that. What a blessing.”

“Oh my _God_ \- oh. You’re joking. Stop it.” David scowls. “I don’t care who you are. No one’s spawn is worth inflicting on the world six times over.”

Patrick hums his agreement. He’s not averse to kids, not at all. He’s just not sure it’s something that’s in his life plan anymore. A lot of things changed when he met David. Priorities shifted, things that he used to think of as sacrosanct are just. . .not so important anymore. They’ve never had the kids conversation, not properly, and he isn’t about to bring it up now.

“What do you want for lunch?” He says instead.

“Coffee.”

It’s maybe not the best idea. David is already thrumming with anxiety.

“How about a sandwich, too?”

He keeps a tight hold of David’s hand while they make their way to the back of the line for Starbucks. Moira somehow already has coffee and is seated. Stevie is nowhere to be found, but Patrick trusts she’ll make her way back to them once she’s screamed in a bathroom stall for seven straight minutes.

Once everyone has eaten they arrange themselves back in the car. Patrick takes the driver’s seat wordlessly and gets a tiny nod of gratitude from Stevie. Moira insists that she absolutely cannot sit in the back, so she stays up front with him and David and Stevie settle behind them.

After a half hour or so, Patrick notices in the rearview mirror that the two of them are dozing with their heads leaning against the opposite windows. He takes the opportunity that’s presented to him.

“Mrs Rose, thanks again for agreeing to let me whisk him away. It means a lot to me to be able to do this for him.”

“Oh Pat, dear,” she says. As much as David insists that they’re _not doing Pat_ , Moira goes along stubbornly calling him that anyway. He likes it. It makes him feel part of the family to have a nickname, and Mrs Rose says it so softly every time. “Johnny and I are so glad our boy has found you.”

“I’m glad I found him, too.” His words are quietly spoken, because he doesn’t want to wake up either of the two sleeping in the back of the car.

“You know, when Alexis first informed me of the tryst you two were having, I worried David was going to quell the blossoming romance before it really began. But you are exactly what he needs.”

The thrill of hearing what he knows to be true with such certainty has colour rising high in Patrick’s cheeks. He doesn’t need the external validation to know that what he has with David is everything to both of them, but it’s still nice to have.

Patrick pulls in to another rest stop. They’re only about forty minutes from the airport now, but he really has to pee. And anyway, Stevie wanted to drive the last leg of the journey so that she could drop the three of them right at the airport door and not have to pay for parking.

The cessation of the car’s movement has David emerging grumbling and disoriented into the afternoon. He blinks melodramatically and fishes around for his sunglasses. Patrick watches all of this unfold, twisted around in his seat despite the awkward stretch of his neck.

“You okay?”

“Ew,” David says back.

He leans back against the headrest and groans. Patrick takes that as his cue to get out of the car. The stretched-out line of David’s body in the back seat has made his mouth dry. He works his tongue over his teeth as he walks to the restroom.

Not long now. He can’t wait.


	2. chapter two

One of the things Patrick has been most concerned about is getting the Roses through security at the airport. Moira is adorned at all times with several layers of trinkets and ends up needing two trays just to herself. Most of the people in line behind them have to be told sharply to step forward because they’re hanging back to watch whatever this is unfold. David beside him is twitching with distress because he has been made to remove his shoes.

“It’s just for two minutes, David,” Patrick says under his breath. He’s keeping Moira and David in front of him the same way his father used to do when he and his sister were young. Shepherding them.

“Two minutes, and two decades of other people’s germs in this carpet.”

It’s the anxiety about flying that’s making him snippier than usual, Patrick knows that. He’d been curious about how someone so well-travelled copes with it so poorly. David had confessed that since he was seven or eight years old his mother had slipped him half a Valium before every plane ride and he’s never actually experienced one sober in his whole life.

For a little while, Patrick had debated the wisdom of the trip. He’d suggested they could make a road trip of it, that they didn’t need to fly, but David had insisted he would be fine. Patrick does have a secret, emergency Valium in his wallet. Just in case.

By the time they’re actually in their seats on the airplane David is sweating. He’s doing his best to hide it, but Patrick has been orbiting the tether of David’s hand in his and has felt the rapidly worsening clamminess. David’s mother is oblivious. Patrick has a sneaking suspicion that she might be harbouring some medication of her own.

David has taken Patrick’s hand into his lap and he strokes the length of his fingers, works his knuckle into the meat of Patrick’s palm. The peculiar affections have thrown him completely off kilter and he just barely manages to assure the flight attendant that they don’t need anything.

It’s been a while since Patrick has flown. He’d forgotten how much rigmarole there is before you’re finally in the sky. Beside him, David is rapt. He watches the attendants’ every move, tracking them back and forth down the aisles. His knee is bouncing, and the hand not in Patrick’s closes into a fist and then starfishes open again over and over.

He keeps his eyes screwed tightly closed for takeoff. Moira has the window seat and has already put on her eye mask and leaned her head against the window. It affords them the tiniest sliver of privacy, and Patrick rests his cheek to David’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry to put you through this.”

“It’s always worth it. For you.”

Patrick kisses him for that. Softly, just the flirtation of his lips brushing David’s, because they are in public after all. He tastes the flint of adrenaline and panic on David and skims his thumb along David’s cheekbone.

“I’m proud of you,” he says. There’s a whisper of space between them that David closes immediately, angling his head to kiss Patrick again. It’s deeper, more intent behind it, but if this helps him to chill out just a little bit then Patrick is not about to complain.

From David’s other side comes his mother’s voice. She’s still wearing the eye mask and she doesn’t even tilt her head in their direction.

“Please, you two, keep your canoodling for the privacy of the boudoir.”

Embarrassment burns high up in Patrick’s cheeks and he clears his throat.

“We’re done being gross.”

“I’m not done,” David says darkly.

“David, dear, let us not have an encore performance of the Helsinki incident.” This time, there’s the barely perceptible lift of an eyebrow beneath the mask.

Well. _That_ is something he will definitely be needing to hear more about later. From the way David groans and covers his face with both hands, he suspects it’s not a suitable anecdote for the plane. The hotel then. Later tonight, in the enormous bathtub he can’t stop thinking about. Need rushes through Patrick’s guts and hollows him out, leaves him breathless.

He is not this person. He is and has always been deeply irritated by this person. He’s never understood why some couples find it so difficult to keep their hands off of one another in public places, until he met David and his whole body came alive for the first time.

After a while, they settle into the flight. David has his headphones on again and Patrick can hear the 80s anthems playlist as if from underwater. He’s got one earbud in, half listening to a podcast and half attuned to the tiniest shift in David’s emotional state. The sooner they’re off this plane, the better for the both of them.

They hit a patch of turbulence and David’s wide, desperate eyes meet Patrick’s. He yanks the headphones off and braces himself against the armrests. Beside him, Moira doesn’t even twitch.

“Okay?” His voice is small.

“Great,” Patrick assures him. The angle is awkward and it makes him clumsy, but he cups the back of David’s neck to hold him close for a moment.

It passes just as quickly as it started and David relaxes incrementally back into his seat. Patrick hooks his arm through David’s and props his chin on David’s shoulder. Like this, he can feel how shaky David’s breathing has become. Maybe the Valium wouldn’t have been such a bad idea after all. There’s no point now, with barely a half hour left on the flight time. He will just have to act as a placebo.

“What do you want to do first? When we get to the city.”

“Eat,” David says immediately.

They talked a little in the car about how exciting it will be. To be able to get any kind of cuisine they want, at any time of the day or night. He manages to distract David for the rest of the flight by quizzing him on his top ten favourite restaurants in the city. It’s such a difficult decision for him to whittle down that he seems to completely forget the peril that he’s in. Patrick listens intently, stifling the smile that wants to burst out whenever David speaks or moves or exists.

As soon as they’re off the plane David relaxes entirely. He comes alive with possibility, lacing his fingers through Patrick’s and tugging him along. It’s awkward trying to juggle their luggage without letting go of one another, but Patrick is so grateful that they made it through the flight he’s happy to struggle through.

“This is where I shall say adieu,” Moira says when they make it outside. She has transport already arranged apparently, a whole hoard of friends waiting for her in the city.

David accepts the kiss his mother leaves at his cheek. She kisses Patrick too, which startles him so badly he doesn’t even hear the rest of the conversation. The David who lived here all those years is awakening. He’s secured them a taxi and already carefully placed their luggage into the trunk. There’s something unusual but not at all unpleasant about seeing him like this.

Authoritative. He likes it.

Patrick allows himself to be herded into the back seat. He scoots across and fastens his belt, exchanges pleasantries and the hotel address with the driver while David gets in the car. The closer they get to Manhattan, the more animated David becomes. He watches the city flit past the windows like ticker tape, and Patrick watches him.

It’s not as fancy a hotel as David is probably used to, but it has a bed and a door that locks and Patrick really couldn’t have hoped for better than that. As soon as they’re in the room they drop their bags in the doorway. Patrick flops onto his back on the bed and throws an arm over his face. Travelling has exhausted him. Getting David through the ordeal has exhausted him. He is peripherally aware of his boyfriend moving around the room, running a finger along the surface of the vanity. He doesn’t want to watch, can’t bear to see how far removed from David’s history with New York this room is.

“I’m gonna shower. Not that it will wash off any of the diseases I’ve contracted on the plane, but-” Patrick opens his eyes to see David wave a dismissive hand. He disappears inside the bathroom for just a second and then pokes his head around from behind the door. “You coming?”

Right. Patrick scrambles to his feet and closes the bathroom door with the slam of David’s body against it.

After they’re showered and changed, they head out into the city. It’s almost seven, and the day is sticky hot still. David is wearing a sweater, naturally, but Patrick has forgone his usual button down for a navy tee. He and David have never been shy about their affections for one another, but there’s something different about New York. They walk hand in hand down the avenue and it feels like celebration.

“I have a place in mind, for dinner. Do you trust me?”

“Of course. But also remember that I’m starving, David.”

Their activities in the shower did not exactly help to suppress Patrick’s appetite. He feels lightheaded with it now, and he is working very hard not to let it make him irritable. They’re here in this city that David loves so much. Tomorrow, they’ve been together for a whole year. He is buoyed by that.

“Okay, relax please. I’m going to feed you.”

Wandering the streets of New York with the love of his life, Patrick is not sure he’s ever been happier. David knows the quieter routes, so they can stroll along without being elbowed by native New Yorkers. Patrick has only been to the city once before, when he was eight years old, and he feels full up with the same childlike enthusiasm.

It’s so warm even at this time of the evening and Patrick feels sweat beginning to prickle at the back of his neck. He doesn’t know how David does it. Anything for fashion, he supposes. They’re walking down Fifth Avenue and the fading sunlight dapples through the leaves over their heads.

“Are you happy to be back?”

“It feels like something alive right here.” David lays his free hand over his heart and smiles at Patrick.

Sincerity looks good on him. It’s been coming out more and more these days, and it no longer surprises Patrick when he gets to hear the truth of David’s heart. They walk for a while longer. David had suggested the subway or even a cab, but Patrick wants to take in as much of the city as possible. His legs feel a bit stiff after all of the travelling, so he’s happy to walk.

They arrive at John’s on 12th and David stops him before he can open the restaurant door. He shelters Patrick from the flow of pedestrians, backing him up against the edifice of the adjacent building. The brick is warm through his shirt.

“Patrick,” David says. “Thank you. No one’s ever done something like this for me before.”

“Really?” He’s surprised by that. David has spent a good portion of his life surrounded by wealth, by people who could whisk him away to their family’s private island at a moment’s notice.

“Really. You pay attention. You notice me.”

He doesn’t know how to explain that his whole body is strung tight with constant awareness. That listening to David, being the one who sees him, is his default state now.

“Babe, I love you.” The pet name rankles David and he scowls, but Patrick continues as if he hasn’t noticed. “But I am so hungry. Can we go eat? And after I’ll flatter you with as many compliments as you like.”

He earns himself an eye roll for that, but David does at least open the door for Patrick and usher him inside. The place is intimate and cosy and they settle into a booth.

“You have to get the meatballs.” David points a finger at Patrick and then swats at the menu he’s trying to study. “Trust me. Meatballs.”

“You’re okay with me having another man’s balls in my mouth?”

David chokes and colour floods his cheeks, travelling rapidly down his neck. The restaurant is fairly empty, which is why Patrick was brave enough to say that in the first place, but a couple of people do turn to look at him over their shoulders.

“You know, weirdly, that’s fine with me.” David feigns nonchalance, but beneath the table he lifts his foot to rest it between Patrick’s legs.

He’s excited about the city, about all the things they have planned, but he won’t lie to David or to himself.

“I can’t wait to get you back to that hotel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas! I hope you all have a restful season, whatever you celebrate.


	3. chapter three

Patrick has been in and out of sleep for most of the night. They thoroughly wore themselves out, and David has been sacked out on his stomach unmoving, but Patrick is restless. He’s so excited for today. One year. One whole year with David. It feels at once miraculous and inevitable.

Next to him in their bed, David sighs in his sleep. Watching him like this is a habit of Patrick’s now. He has known right from the jump that David isn’t a morning person, and he has grown used to lying beside him for an hour or more waiting for him to wake up. It’s one of the most cherished parts of his day. In sleep, David is so peaceful. His face is smooth and slack.

Patrick lies on his back for a little while, breathing evenly so he doesn’t disturb his boyfriend. After ten minutes or so he can’t be still any longer. He gets up and heads to the window. Patrick nudges the curtain and a shaft of light breaks open the morning.

He turns to see David’s solemn, sincere face in the half-dark. Not two minutes ago he had been sleeping on his stomach, out cold and snoring like a bear. It always takes him a while to come awake, so Patrick keeps his mouth closed and starts the coffee pot percolating.

Once it’s done he sets a mug down on David’s nightstand and then comes around and gets back into bed. David rolls over and Patrick kisses his clammy cheek, smelling the sleep-sweat of him. He lingers, feeling especially clingy this morning. David’s hand comes up and two fingers land at Patrick’s cheek, just resting.

“What time did you wake up?” David asks. His voice is gruff with not being used.

“After four.”

“But before five,” David sighs. “What’s wrong with you?”

He’s grumpy in the morning, and Patrick has learned over the last year to be patient. The acerbic remarks get fewer and further between throughout the day, and by the time they’re falling into bed together in the evenings David is sweet and tender.

“I’m excited. I feel good.”

As he’s saying it, Patrick realises just how true it is. His tongue feels dry, but he kisses David anyway. It’s chaste, because of the morning and because his heart feels so soft towards this man. David’s hand splays wide at Patrick’s jaw to keep him in place. He lifts his chin into the kiss and hums a little noise of contentment.

“Happy birthday,” Patrick says when they break apart.

“Happy anniversary,” David says back.

Patrick is anxious not to waste any of their day, but it’s early enough still that they can afford to be lazy. They can take their time with their coffee in a way they never really get to do back home. David scoots over in bed so that their shoulders brush. The warmth of him beside Patrick is so comfortable and familiar.

When he moved to Schitt’s Creek, he had thought he was running away. The whole mess with Rachel had propelled him right out of the town he’d known his whole life. It was only when he straightened up again, caught his breath, that he realised he had been running _towards_ something all that time.

This man, here beside him. Goofy, rumpled hair sticking up all over his head. For once, not wearing a sweater but instead bare-chested. Morning David is a side of him not many people have gotten to see. Not many people have lingered after the fact, stuck around for the sunrise. Patrick knows that, and he is so humbled to get to be the one to do that now.

“At least I know how old you are this time,” Patrick teases.

It earns him a small noise of distress and David hides his face against the ball of Patrick’s shoulder. He’s laughing though, and he leaves soft kisses at Patrick’s bicep where the skin peeks out from beneath his t-shirt.

“Only trust you with that information. I truly don’t think my mom and dad even know.”

Patrick actually doesn’t doubt that. Mr and Mrs Rose love their son, he sees that every day, but they’re not always the best with remembering statistics about either of their children. To Patrick though, these things are important. Knowing David is important.

“Well, you look great. Not a day over twenty five.”

“You suck,” David says, and bites the tender skin at the inside of Patrick’s arm.

It’s so easy between them. He remembers, one year ago. How terrified he was. They had missed their shot after the store opening, Alexis seemed to think Patrick was into _her_ , everything he was feeling had been so confusing. And then he had spent that wonderful, intimate dinner with David and it had felt like the world coming right after being off half a degree for such a long time.

“Do you know how I knew you were the one I’d been waiting my whole life for?”

It isn’t a new sentiment, but David’s eyes widen just a little bit. He stays quiet, for the first time maybe ever in his life, but he threads his fingers through Patrick’s and squeezes.

“You didn’t laugh at me. Whenever I’d do something sentimental for-” he stops himself before he can say _Rachel_. He knows better. Not on David’s birthday. “I would get laughed at. Ridiculed. But your face was. . .you were as soft as I felt.”

David is silent for long enough that it leaves Patrick feeling awkward and too big for his skin. He fidgets, taking his hand back from David so he can pick at imaginary lint on the quilt. This last year, they’ve shared a lot of truths with each other. What Patrick feels is so enormous that he’s afraid. Afraid to look it in the face, afraid to share it with David. Afraid that if he even acknowledges how badly he _wants_ , everything will fall apart.

“Patrick,” David starts. Frustration creases his brow and he shakes his head. “I love you.”

It’s fewer words, sure, but it means so much. Patrick is the only one David has ever said that to romantically. Ever. It’s all that he needs. Longing made liquid fills his belly and he reaches for David. He’s frantic, his kiss graceless, but David smiles into it and makes them take their time.

His fingers curl in the bottom of Patrick’s t-shirt and he uses that grip on the fabric to reel him in and press his mouth to Patrick’s. David’s tongue strokes at the seam of Patrick’s lips. He has coffee mouth, but so does David, so he opens to that inquisitive touch. Patrick is trapped and tumbling in a current of need, so he lets David be the one to steer them right.

After, he gets to watch David getting ready for the day. It’s even more of a production here than it is in Schitt’s Creek. More people to impress here, Patrick supposes. He studies David as he arranges the attractive flop of his hair away from his forehead. One strand keeps escaping from the swoop and falling down and David whines in frustration.

Patrick comes the rest of the way into the bathroom and stands hip to hip with David. In the mirror, their eyes meet. Patrick slides his hand into David’s back pocket and squeezes. It’s amusing, but a part of him hurts for David.

“You’re perfect and I love you.”

“Okay, weirdo,” David says, but pleasure stains his cheeks and as much as he might duck his head, Patrick still sees his smile.

When Patrick peeked outside this morning a fog had been settled low over the city, but it has burned away with the heat of the day and the sky is clear and brilliant. David’s wearing those white sunglasses he likes so much, and Patrick has his own aviators on. He misses the quirk of David’s brow and the rich warmth of his eyes, but this is good too.

They have a tentative plan for this morning. Both of them agreed that they didn’t want to have a strict itinerary, but they need a sense of direction because of who they are as people. Right now, they’re making their way towards the Levain on 74th. David had talked about the bakery for about ten minutes on the flight out, so Patrick is really looking forward to seeing what it has to offer.

“You know, this is really going to ruin Café Tropical for both of us. How are we gonna go back to that?”

David wrinkles his nose in distaste. They come to crosswalk and native New Yorkers stream around them, but Patrick insists that they wait until it’s their turn to walk. He’s not used to big city living in the way that David is. It makes him antsy, and he would always rather be safe.

Once they’re safely across the street, Patrick’s concentration slackens enough that he can respond. “We’ll just have to come back every year.”

“Just how many years are you thinking?”

“All of them.”

David’s startled face turns to look at him, and Patrick lifts his chin in the face of that truth. He’s thinking of forever. There’s no shame in it. Not for him.

“it’s right up here.” David tips his head to gesture down the street. He hasn’t acknowledged that Patrick basically just said he wants to spend the rest of their lives together, but he does slip his hand into Patrick’s and hold on tightly.

He has been warned that there’s often a line to get in, but this morning it’s fairly quiet. There’s a set of steep stairs down into the bakery so he has to let go of David’s hand. He feels the presence of his boyfriend’s fingertips between his shoulder blades as they make their way inside.

“What shall I get?”

“Literally anything. It’s all amazing.”

You can see over the top of the counter and into the bakery itself, and Patrick watches them load a tray of cookies into the oven. David has already ordered and paid for a peanut butter chocolate chip cookie and he accepts it two-handed, clutching it to his chest as if he’s afraid someone will snatch it away from him.

Usually Patrick tries to avoid sugar first thing in the morning, but what the hell. He’s on vacation, and he’s been awake for about four hours so it hardly counts. He orders a cookie of his own, oatmeal raisin so he can at least lie to himself and pretend it’s a healthy breakfast choice.

They get iced coffees as well and take their treats back up the steps and out into the sunlight. It seems like it’s five degrees hotter than it was when they went in. Patrick presses his coffee cup to his neck for a minute to cool off.

“Why is it so much hotter here?”

“All the concrete absorbs the heat. Like walking around on a radiator. This is a garbage city.” David grins widely. “God, I missed it.”

David has sucked down half of his coffee already and makes a start on his cookie. He takes a bite and then stops in the middle of the street and moans loudly, tips his head back. Thankfully 74th is no Times Square. There’s no one to see David’s display, and no one to witness the growl of need that escapes Patrick without his consent.

“Can you maybe have some decorum?”

“Try yours.”

It’s a challenge. Patrick hasn’t yet put his sunglasses on after being inside, so he can level a stare at David while he takes his cookie out of its bag. It’s warm still, and soft, breaking apart easily in his hands. He takes a bite and-

Wow. Okay. Yeah.

Worth moaning in the middle of the street. The involuntary noise of pleasure he lets out makes David stalk darkly towards him. The thrill of being with somebody taller than he is still hasn’t quite worn off, and Patrick so loves the loop of David’s arms around his shoulders. David’s coffee cup is wetting the back of Patrick’s shirt, but it’s actually nice to cool off a little bit.

The warm closeness of David’s body, however? Not so much.

“I love you so much, David Rose, but I need you to keep your hands off me.”

“It’s my _birthday_ ,” David whines, but he does let go of Patrick and put a little bit of distance between them.

They start up walking again, heading up Central Park West to the entrance on 77th. The museum looms up ahead, just as grandiose as it appears in all of the movies and TV shows Patrick has seen. It’s not on the schedule for today, but maybe by this afternoon the siren song of the museum’s AC will overrule David’s distaste for crowding tourists.

Either way, Patrick is happy.


	4. chapter four

They spend the rest of the morning walking together in the park. Patrick feels the skin at the back of his neck prickling, the heat of the day searing in spite of his liberal sunscreen application this morning. It’s worth it, to have this. They’re not holding hands - they tried and things got too sweaty very fast - but his knuckles do brush David’s thigh every so often as they walk.

The water of the reservoir is brilliant in the midday sun. Here, away from the noise of the streets, it kind of feels like being back in Schitt’s Creek again. Only with way more people.

There are various people running the circuit of the reservoir, and every time someone passes them David tuts loudly. They are, technically, walking on the Shuman Running Track right now, so Patrick’s not sure that they have any right to complain. It doesn’t seem to matter to David.

“I just don’t understand why anyone would do that to themselves.”

“It is a bit hot,” Patrick agrees.

“No. Running at _all_.”

Another pair of runners come up behind them and David falls slightly behind Patrick to give them space on the path. It is uncomfortably warm, and Patrick can’t fathom how anyone would motivate themselves to exercise right now. Just this leisurely stroll is making him irritable and sticky.

As they’ve been walking, David has been pointing out the various buildings you can see from this vantage point. They’ve seen the two towers of the El Dorado, the Chrysler and the Empire State Building. Patrick is well-versed in listening to David talk, but this is different. His eyes are bright with pride and he keeps darting these little glances to Patrick as if to check that he’s still listening.

When they loop back around to the point where they joined the path, David’s face is red. Sweat beads at his hairline and it’s not unattractive, but it does worry Patrick. It isn’t safe to be wearing a sweater in this heat, no matter the consequences to one’s carefully cultivated outfit.

“Maybe we should run back to the hotel real quick and you can put on a t-shirt?”

“I don’t _own_ a _t-shirt_ ,” David says, as if they very concept is a direct assault against everything that he stands for.

“You could wear one of mine?” The face that David makes is comically over exaggerated. He grimaces and draws away from Patrick in disgust. Patrick pouts. “You’re being so mean today.”

“I’m mean every day.”

He laughs, because he can’t exactly disagree with that. David is laughing too, though. It’s both true and not. David is sarcastic and snippish, but he is also thoughtful and good and soft with the people he cares about.

Words make David proud and disagreeable, but there are other ways Patrick can prove his point. He steps in close to his boyfriend, looping his arms around David’s neck so that their chests are flush. Since day one, David has been tactile in his affection. He comes back to Patrick over and over like a lodestone, needing to touch him as if to confirm that he’s still there. Today though, with the temperature creeping up into the nineties, he squirms in Patrick’s arms. He sticks it out for all of ten seconds, and then he extracts himself and puts a foot of space between them.

“Okay.” David waves his hands in distress.

“Okay?”

“Fine. I’ll change.”

Patrick tries very hard not to gloat, but a smile creeps its way across his mouth without his permission. It’s not that he’s happy to have been proven right; he just wants David to be safe.

Alright. So it’s a little bit that he’s happy to have been proven right.

They begin to head out of the park. It’s busy, even on a weekday. They frequently have to step to the side to let cyclists pass them by, but it’s nice. Over a year now since they opened the store, and this is the first vacation time they’ve had. Patrick is enjoying taking his time, strolling in the sunlight with the person he loves more than anything.

“What are our plans for the rest of the day?” Patrick asks as they approach the stone arch on West 77th. The shade underneath is welcome relief and he reaches for David’s hand, stops him walking for just a moment.

He uses the momentum of David’s body to nudge him up against the stonework. Patrick crowds close and arches his neck to kiss David. Being in New York makes him courageous, more so than usual. In this city, Stonewall happened. In this city, the Pride March was born. They’re not just accepted here. They’re celebrated.

“More of this?” David suggests. His lips brush the shell of Patrick’s ear and make him shiver.

As nice as it is, to be necking in the shade, Patrick does have some plans for later on. He has tried to keep it low key, but he let Moira be a part of the plan so he’s trepidatious. He kisses David again, tasting coffee and sweat on him.

“I do have something.”

He starts them walking again, letting his elbow bump against David’s as they emerge out into the city. It’s nearing one pm now, so the streets are fuller than they were this morning with people searching for lunch. It takes them a little longer to get back to the hotel, and by the time they do David is breathing heavily.

“Go take a cold shower,” Patrick instructs.

“Come with me?”

“No. Go on. Before you pass out.”

David whines and nuzzles his nose against Patrick’s neck. “But it’s-”

“Your birthday, I know.” Tenderness wells up in Patrick and he kisses the sweaty crown of David’s head. “Which is exactly why I don’t want you collapsing on me. I’ll be right here waiting.”

He pushes on David’s shoulders until he gets him into the bathroom. David doesn’t close the door, leaving it wide in invitation, but Patrick does actually have a couple of things to take care of while he’s got a minute to himself. He sits sideways on the edge of the bed, not wanting to get too comfortable since they’ll be going straight back out. He’s so engrossed in his phone that he doesn’t hear the water shutting off, doesn’t notice David reemerging until he is standing between his knees and dripping onto Patrick’s lap.

“Feel better?”

“Yes.” David admits grudgingly.

He has a towel knotted at his waist and water tracks rivulets down his chest. His cheeks aren’t so flushed anymore, but the dark intensity of his gaze on Patrick is making his own face feel hot. As much as he would love to spend the afternoon on top of David, he doesn’t want to miss out on their chance to explore the city.

“Get dressed, sweetheart,” Patrick says. He feels stupidly soft towards David, tenderness welling up out of him every time he opens his mouth. “Into a t-shirt.”

“You’re annoying.” David scowls, and drops the towel to the floor in punishment. He turns around to head for their open suitcases, and Patrick relishes the opportunity to study the curve of David’s ass.

“But you love me.”

“Doesn’t make you less annoying,” he says over his shoulder.

The sight of David in shorts and one of Patrick’s t-shirts makes his mouth dry. He’s gone for the darkest one in there, of course, and the navy looks amazing stretched across the width of his shoulders. Patrick gets up from the bed and stalks over to David. From behind, he wraps his arms around David’s waist and hides his face against David’s shoulder blade.

It’s so good, to have him warm and close like this. He allows himself to linger for a long moment, and then he gives David space to turn in the circle of his arms. Patrick steals a kiss, another, and then he steps back entirely.

“Your mom texted me,” he offers.

David’s eyebrows lift and he works his jaw in that peculiar, animatronic way Patrick finds so attractive. “Huh. She’s not passed out in the gutter, then.”

Last night, while they were sacked out on their backs and still panting, David had regaled Patrick with stories of his time here. Of how his mother would be out most nights with her high society friends. There had been a note of grief in his voice, and Patrick hadn’t known what to do other than hook his arm over David’s stomach and listen.

“She’s not, no. In fact, she wants to meet us this evening for drinks.”

“Fine,” David shrugs noncommittally, but Patrick catches the twin creases of pleasure that curve at the corners of his mouth.

They’ve got a few hours to kill before they need to meet Mrs Rose, and David suggests the High Line. He’s never actually visited it himself, apparently, and Patrick is excited to have something new to them both to experience together.

“You know, it doesn’t actually surprise me that you’ve never been here,” Patrick says as they approach the entrance on 14th.

They took the subway downtown, which was an experience. Patrick had trailed behind his boyfriend like a child, trusting David to navigate for them. He’s had a car his whole life, so he’s not exactly familiar with public transport. It’s fun actually, to trust David like this. And the AC on the train was a welcome relief.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“I’ve just never really pictured you as the type to want to commune with nature.”

He earns himself the jut of David’s bottom lip for that. Patrick steps in close, but David’s eyes are dark with hurt instead of need. Patrick kisses him, mindful that they’re in public. He keeps it soft, letting the sweep of his thumb back and forth over David’s cheekbone be his apology.

“Do you think I’m boring?”

Patrick laughs out loud in spite of himself. A couple of people turn in curiosity, but he doesn’t care. He laces his fingers through David’s as they head up the steps. At the top, he brings David with him to one side so that they’re out of everybody’s way.

“David. You are without a doubt the most interesting person I’ve ever met. Apart from your mother, maybe. Every single thing in my life changed because of you. Yours is the last face I want to see before I go to bed at night, and the first thing I want to see when I open my eyes in the morning.”

David’s eyes are swimming but he’s actually meeting Patrick’s gaze, which feels like a miracle. The last year, he’s been working on emotional honesty. For himself, but also demanding it of David.

“So no,” he finishes. “I don’t think you’re boring.”

He studies David for a moment to make sure he really understands. Patrick’s heart is a loud, insistent creature inside his chest. He didn’t mean to let it all come spilling out like that in public, but making sure that David realises how special he is has become the most important thing in the world.

“The crowd that I used to hang out with weren’t really the type to be into it. I always wanted to come.”

“Well. Now we’re here.”

The day is starting to cool off a little bit now, and it’s comfortable enough to hold David’s hand. Patrick keeps the grip loose, so that they can move at their own pace. It’s beautiful up here, with all of the flora in full bloom. They stock quite a few types of plants at the store, but nothing as wild as what’s up here.

When they’ve walked about half of the distance, David stops them. He wraps an arm around Patrick’s waist and tucks his hand into the pocket of his shorts on the opposite side. From this vantage point, they can see right down 23rd to the water of the Hudson. David takes a couple of pictures of the view, takes a selfie of them as well, and then he puts his phone away.

“I’m so happy to be here with you,” he confesses.

Patrick leans his head against the ball of David’s shoulder. He is astonished, almost, by how happy he is. One year ago everything had been so uncertain, and now he is so sure. David is it, for him. Lights are beginning to come on all over the city, dusk setting in, and the water of the Hudson reflects it all back at them. His body feels pleasantly sore after a day of walking around, and he’s glad for a moment to be still.

“I’m so happy, too.”


	5. chapter five

Dinner was intimate and lovely. David had suggested a restaurant uptown, Arte Cafe. It’s a quiet Italian place, family owned, and the owner had remembered David immediately. Had even hugged him, which had startled Patrick into silence. It’s fascinating to see David in his natural habitat like this.

They’re done eating now, but they’re lingering. Later tonight, they have drinks. David’s mother has been calling around, and has texted Patrick that she’s managed to dredge up a fair few of David’s old cohorts. Patrick is a little bit giddy with the secret and has to keep biting his lip so it doesn’t come blurting out. 

It’s very easy to be quiet, to let David do all of the talking. Patrick got the check, because it is David’s birthday after all. He’s quite content now to stretch out in this chair and listen. When it’s finally time to leave the restaurant the owner comes over again to say goodbye and makes David promise to come back soon. 

The Empire Hotel is only ten blocks downtown from the restaurant, so they walk. After their time at the High Line this afternoon they had gone back to change into something a little more formal for the evening. Patrick is wearing his usual dark jeans and button down shirt but David, by some miracle, isn’t wearing a sweater. It’s a very complicated shirt, but it doesn’t make Patrick worry for his boyfriend’s health and that’s all he can ask for. 

Residual heat from the day rises from the sidewalk, but it’s nice. More than nice, to finally be able to hold David’s hand without sweat making it disgusting. They take their time, because Patrick wants to make sure that they’re not the first ones there. He keeps stopping David in the middle of the street to point things out or to steal a kiss. 

“Are you having a good birthday?” 

“Mm.” A smile tugs at one corner of David’s mouth. “It’s fine. I do really wish I could have some of Twyla’s defrosted mozzarella sticks, though.”

Patrick laughs out loud at that. David’s last birthday fills him with such tenderness. The bravest night of his whole life. He lifts their clasped hands to his lips and kisses David’s, allowing himself the pleasure of lingering for a moment. 

Their relationship has become so comfortable and easy after a year. Even so, it does feel like a strange and lovely dream being here with David. He keeps waiting for the misstep, for the sensation of falling through space in search of a final stair that isn’t there. It never comes, and his anxiety is slowly shifting into joy. 

In the lobby of The Empire, Patrick presses the call button for the elevator. It’s difficult to tell whether David suspects anything or not, since his natural state is jittering suspicion. He’s not pulling away though, not attempting to flee. Instead he uses the privacy of the elevator car to nudge Patrick back against the wall and kiss him fiercely. 

It’s a furious, fast crush of David’s chest against his and the hot sweep of his tongue. Patrick gives of himself willingly, opening to David’s insistent touch. The door opening startles them both, but thankfully the elevator empties into a secluded hallway and there’s nobody to witness this. 

David is regaling him with some anecdote as they enter the bar. His head is turned, so it takes him a moment to realise that he knows every single person here. His mouth drops open and he turns to look at Patrick again. 

He grins, open-mouthed, and lifts his eyebrows. “Happy birthday.” 

Various people in the crowd cheer in echo. Moira is untangling herself from a group of women who all look like her if she was disassembled and then put back together not quite correctly. 

“David, darling. Happy birthday.” She captures David’s face in her palms and studies him for a moment. “My boy. I hope this revelry hasn’t discombobulated you too greatly.” 

Patrick lets go of David’s hand to head for the bar. He could do with a drink right now, and he knows David will need something to do with his hands. Now that they’re here, Patrick is nervous again. He knows that David has been out for most of his life, and that him being with a man won’t come as a shock to any of these people. 

Him being in a committed relationship, though? That might. And Patrick is under no illusions. He’s not going to fit in very well with David’s old group. He orders himself one of the craft beers on offer and stays at the bar to nurse it for a while. In the reflection of the napkin holder, he sees how David has come alight. People are crowding around him to wish him a happy birthday. He’s holding court, effortless and effervescent.

This was a big part of why Patrick wanted to do this. David’s comment from last year still sticks in his mind. He didn’t want David to have to spend another birthday with only two friends. Even if Patrick and Stevie do love him more than all of these people combined. 

Patrick finishes his first drink and orders another beer, getting David a vodka sour as well. A noise catches his attention and he turns around on the barstool. David is stretched on tiptoe to look for him. He finds Patrick immediately in the crowd of people at the bar and his whole face opens up with lovely, clean light. Patrick feels the tug low down in his stomach and gets to his feet, begins to weave through the throng. Hands full, he makes his way through the crowd to David’s side. There must be fifty people here, and he has no idea how Moira did this, but he’s so grateful to her.

When he breaks through the circle of people to David’s side, his face lights up. David is all blushing familiarity as he kisses the hi from Patrick’s cheek. 

“Everyone, this is Patrick,” he exclaims. “This is my boyfriend. Where did you go? I missed you.” 

David takes the drink Patrick offers and drains nearly half the glass in one. A few of the people around them offer Patrick their names and he shakes a couple of hands, but David has captured everyone’s attention. He gesticulates wildly as he shares various anecdotes from Schitt’s Creek. Nothing that betrays how hard it was to adjust, how much he grieves his old life sometimes still.

After a while Patrick escapes David’s arm around his shoulders and moves away. Unless he has his guitar he’s not very comfortable being the centre of attention. He’s happy to stay on the periphery of the action. From here, he has an excellent vantage point. This David is a different creature altogether. 

Cold fingers at his back startle him and Patrick turns to see Mrs Rose. She’s cradling a champagne flute to her chest and she tips it towards him as if to toast. 

“Pat, thank you.”

“You did most of this,” he laughs. 

Moira doesn’t echo him. Sincerity is alarming on her and Patrick swallows hard. 

“Not many people can decipher David. He has always been a conundrum. Doing this for him is very. . .” She waves a hand as she searches for the right word. “Altruistic.”

“He deserves it,” Patrick shrugs. 

Because he feels awkward, and because he only knows two people here, Patrick finds himself gravitating back to the bar again. It’s fascinating to watch both of the Roses in their natural habitat. He nurses another beer and begins to feel this one go to his head. 

He feels good. Not drunk, not exactly, but pleasantly aware of himself. Happiness bubbles like champagne in his belly and he smiles at David from across the room. This time, David is the one to come to him. He slides into the bar stool beside Patrick’s. The kiss is all fumbling, graceless enthusiasm. 

“Mm. You’re drunk,” he says into David’s mouth.

“Not as drunk as you.”

That’s a fair assessment. David has been way too busy talking and laughing to actually drink the various beverages people keep putting into his hands. He studies Patrick for a moment, head tilted. 

“Are you mad?”

“What?” Patrick blurts. He tries to get closer, but the room is hazy and he has to slam a hand down on the surface of the bar to catch himself. “No, baby. I’m happy. This is what I wanted for you.” 

“Will you come with me?” 

He follows Patrick to the outdoor seating area. There are fewer people out here, but it’s a beautiful night. They stand together and watch the people spilling out of Lincoln Center. A performance has just ended. Patrick lays his head at David’s shoulder and loops an arm around his boyfriend’s waist. 

“Not one of those people in there has reached out to me since we moved to Schitt’s Creek,” David says. He’s quiet and contemplative. No performative charisma right now. “I doubt they even remembered that I exist until my mom contacted them.”

Patrick is too tipsy to say the right thing. Instead, he turns his head and brushes his lips against David’s shirt, right over his heart. 

“It’s good to see them. I’m having fun. But I’m also really excited to go back to the hotel later and be alone with you.” 

“I wanna be alone with you right now.” 

It comes out a little more whiny than Patrick meant it to, but that doesn’t make it any less true. He’s not used to having to share David, apart from with Stevie occasionally. He just barely manages not to stamp his foot. 

Without words, David laces his fingers through Patrick’s and leads him back inside. They cut right through the crowd, heads down so as not to get ensnared in another conversation. Patrick falters for a second when David opens the door of the men’s room, but he lets himself be pulled inside. 

They crowd into a stall with clumsy urgency. Patrick’s hands are busy at the hem of David’s shirt and questing beneath it. The alcohol makes him reckless and when David gets his hand inside Patrick’s pants he throws his head back on a gasp.

Afterwards, Patrick stuffs himself back into his pants. His fingers fumble with zipper and clasp and button. He is wrecked by David, and he stays in the bathroom stall after his boyfriend heads back to the party. He feels suddenly, exponentially drunker. It’s been a while since he’s let loose like this, and he has needed the liquid courage tonight. At the sink, Patrick splashes some cold water onto his face. It’s fun to be buzzed, but he doesn’t want to become a liability. Doesn’t want to ruin David’s night. 

The collar of his button down is wet, and he’s self-conscious about it when he goes back out into the bar. The starch of his shirt has softened with sweat and David’s urgent fingers, and the cotton clings to his skin uncomfortably. He can’t wait to get back to the hotel, but he will stay here for as long as David wants. 

No one’s paying him any attention at all, too swept up in both of the Roses and their magnetic energy. He hovers awkwardly next to David, waiting for a gap in the conversation. David turns to look for Patrick and grins to find him right there, beside him.

“Stop wandering off. Stay.” 

David seems to be only half joking. As much as he cringes under the attention, Patrick would do anything for David on a normal day. On his birthday, he is utterly powerless. 

People have started to disperse now. A couple of David’s friends have kids and have gone home to relieve their nannies. Others are moving on to various clubs, trading little packets of white powder back and forth that Patrick is trying very hard not to see. 

“So David,” one of the few remaining people starts. 

Patrick is rankled by this guy immediately. He has on too much hair gel and too much cologne, his shirt is unbuttoned to an indecent point. There’s something predatory in the way he looks at David. 

“How is your mother? Is she still insufferable? Moving to Hicksville hasn’t made her any less batshit insane, huh?” 

“Fuck you, Parker,” David says flatly. 

“God. I think all of us were glad when she left here. Must have been quite the shock to her system, to be dethroned like that.”

David turns to look at Patrick. The edge of his jaw is sharp with restraint. “I want to go. Patrick. I want to go now.” 

He doesn’t say anything. It seems more important to get David out of here before he swings for this guy. In the elevator, David bows until his head rests at Patrick’s chest. Patrick brings both arms up to cradle his boyfriend’s head. He murmurs soothing nonsense, feels David’s hands fist in his shirt at either side of his hips. 

Moira, thankfully, had left an hour or so ago. At least she wasn’t there for that, although Patrick’s not sure she would have cared. Not as much as David clearly does. 

“I used to complain about her, sometimes. They’d goad me into it.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

“I didn’t know her, then.” David lifts his head and Patrick is horrified to see that his eyes are wet. “Not like I do now.”

He doesn’t know what to do. Patrick shakes his head helplessly. The hostile way Parker approached David has sobered him right up, and now he feels useless. He takes David’s hand and squeezes, and hopes that he knows. Patrick is on his side. His and all of the Roses.


	6. chapter six

Something is waiting right at the edge of Patrick’s consciousness, but he can’t quite reach it because his head _hurts_. He groans and rolls over in bed, waits a moment for his brain to catch up with the movement. When they got back to the hotel last night he made both of them drink a whole bottle of water, and he took a preemptive Advil too.

It isn’t helping much.

When he finally manages to open his eyes he finds himself nose to nose with David. Awake and grinning, laughing at him really. Patrick wrinkles his nose. He frees a hand from beneath the covers and pushes on David’s face.

“Don’t. I’m suffering.”

“Poor baby,” David’s voice is alight with amusement. He comes in closer and presses his lips to Patrick’s palm. “What can I get you?”

“More Advil.”

Patrick closes his eyes again and allows himself to drift easily in and out of consciousness. He hears David like a spectre pottering around the room, opening and closing drawers. He’s saying something, but Patrick is listening more to the intonation of his voice than the words themselves. It’s so domestic to be lazing in bed like this, listening to David. He comes all the way awake again when David sits on the edge of the bed and Patrick rolls into his hip.

He takes the Advil and washes it down with the water David has brought him, forces himself to drink down most of the glass. There’s coffee on his nightstand too. Tenderness washes through him so quickly that he can’t even speak, has to bow his head against David’s bare shoulder instead.

It’s not very often that Patrick is the one being taken care of. He is the more responsible and level-headed of the two of them, so most of the time he just. . .deals with things. This is weird, but good.

“Are you nauseous?”

“Nauseated, would be the grammatical convention,” he can’t help but say. “But no. I’m not. Just- my head is pounding.”

“In modern usage ‘nauseous’ is ubiquitous,” David mutters. He does kiss the crown of Patrick’s head, though, and one hand comes up to flutter at the nape of his neck.

The water and the Advil are helping. He can think a little bit more clearly now. Patrick leans against his boyfriend’s chest and soaks in the sleepy warmth of him. He is so smitten with David. Even now, after a year and a day, he feels himself drawn to David’s side by the hook in his guts.

David’s fingers sift through Patrick’s hair. He’s complained, a couple of times, that Patrick keeps it cropped so short. He wants to muss it up, wants to leave Patrick _thoroughly rumpled_ , he says. It’s nice like this though, to feel the pads of David’s fingers tracing patterns over Patrick’s skull. For once, David doesn’t seem in any hurry to move. Not like last night, when-

“Oh my _God_.” Patrick snaps upright and stares at David. “Did we have sex in a hotel bathroom last night?”

“Uh, yeah?” David shrugs.

It’s not all that often that Patrick is reminded just how different their lives have been. Their routine is comfortable and easy and he often forgets that it hasn’t always been like this. That once upon a time, sex in bathroom cubicles was just par for the course in David’s evening.

“Have you done that before?”

“Once or twice.” David is refusing to meet his eyes now. “But not. . .not like that. It was just kind of what you did. But last night, I- I wanted you so much that I just needed you right then. Couldn’t wait another minute.”

“I meant to bring you back here and romance you,” Patrick laments.

He had wanted to take his time. To feel David beneath him, stretched out and arching like a cat. Instead they had something fast and dirty in a toilet cubicle. Shame makes him hide his face in his hands and he groans into the cup of his palms.

“Do you regret it?”

When he looks at David he sees his boyfriend’s scrunched up, hesitant face and suddenly it doesn’t matter anymore. Patrick smoothes his thumb beneath David’s eye, astounded to find him here in their bed. He is so perfectly odd.

“Of course not. Not how I meant for things to go, but. . .” he trails off.

“Thank you for my party,” David says, and is kissing him before he can explain that David owes that thanks more to his mother than to Patrick.

It’s a soft kiss, tentative because Patrick is feeling very fragile this morning. He tilts his head and feels David’s wide, warm palm come to his jaw and keep him in place. When they break apart he feels smudged and a little bit giddy.

“Our last full day. What do you wanna do?”

“A museum?” David suggests.

He leaves Patrick in bed and gets up to head for the bathroom. He doesn’t shut the door and Patrick leans against the headboard and listens to David in the shower while he drinks his coffee. The Advil has kicked in now and he feels pretty good. Better than he expected to feel this morning.

The water shuts off and David reemerges, towel knotted at his hips. Patrick so adores him that he feels it like a caught breath in his chest. He gets up from the bed and moves in close until their thighs meet. David kisses him, fingers sliding up underneath the t-shirt he slept in. It makes him shiver, makes him needy, and he catches his teeth at David’s bottom lip in retaliation.

When they separate David’s face is all goofy and love-slack, and Patrick pats his ass to get him moving. He realises that he hasn’t looked at his phone yet today, has no idea what time it is. It’s nice to exist outside of time like this, but he wants to get out into the city and enjoy it.

They finish getting ready and David comes to meet Patrick by the door with a kiss. He tastes good, like love and toothpaste. They break apart and Patrick keeps his eyes closed a moment longer, lets a smile unfurl at his mouth.

The city isn’t so hot as yesterday. Gratitude propels Patrick’s hand right into David’s and he squeezes tight. Walking side by side like this, sunglasses on, makes him courageous.

“I’m sorry if that guy spoiled your party last night.”

“Parker? No.” David shakes his head. “Didn’t spoil it. Wasn’t, uh, my top choice of people to spend my birthday with, but nothing’s spoiled.”

“Who would be your top choice?”

David’s answer is immediate, the truth of it propelling the words right out of his mouth. “You. Stevie. Alexis and Ted, maybe, but if I hear the word babe _one time_ they are out.”

“So I spent all this money bringing you here for nothing?”

His mouth contorts for a second and then he realises that Patrick is joking and huffs a disgruntled breath instead. It’s interesting, sure, to know that David really only needs the people around them at home to be happy. Patrick doesn’t regret this trip and all of the time he and David have been able to spend just the two of them, but he is quietly pleased to know that he is enough.

“Before we go inside, I really want a pretzel,” he confesses as they walk past the cart. Neither of them has eaten yet today, and Patrick needs to fill his stomach if he’s going to enjoy his time at the museum.

“Fine, but I’m not going to be the weeping widow in a lace veil when you die of dysentery.”

He glosses right over _widow_ , has to, because he doesn’t want to get into the suggestion of them being married here in the middle of the street.

“It’s just bread, David. I’m not going near the street meat.”

David waves a hand at him in dismissal and Patrick laughs. He leaves his awkward, adorable boyfriend standing a few feet away and goes to buy a pretzel from the guy. In his peripheral vision he sees how David wrings his hands together and shifts his weight. It’s ridiculous that he can be so charming and also so ungainly.

He buys two pretzels, because he heard David’s stomach rumbling earlier and he can’t deal with his hypoglycaemic melodrama. They sit down on the steps of the museum to eat. Patrick watches David turn the pretzel over a couple of times to inspect it and then begin to tear away bite sized pieces to eat.

“You’re smiling,” David says.

“Just love you.”

“Oh.” Twin spots of colour appear high up in David’s cheeks and he ducks his head. “I just love you, too.”

Once they’re done eating they have to swim against the current of people climbing the museum steps to go in search of a trash can. It gives them a little more privacy, enough that Patrick feels brave. He captures David by the hand and brings him in close to kiss him, slow and exploratory.

Both of David’s hands come up to frame Patrick’s face and his fingers trace intricate patterns at the back of Patrick’s skull. It’s arousing, erotic, and he breathes slowly through his nose as David works at him. A tiny keening noise escapes him and David breaks away from the kiss.

It feels like he’s laughing at him, but his hands are kind. He lowers them until his arms are draped at Patrick’s shoulders. He isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to the sensation of David being taller, David gazing down at him with such tenderness. He _gazes_ , and the Patrick of two or three years ago would be horrified by that, but he likes it. Feels good, to be worth looking at like that.

They’re doing the Museum of Natural History this morning, in large part because of the movie. _One of the greatest comedies of the last fifteen years, David_ , he had found himself insisting this morning. Patrick is continually surprised by the strong opinions he holds about things he never knew he cared about. David just feels so vastly and deeply about absolutely everything that Patrick finds himself adopting his own stance just to get a rise out of him.

David had acquiesced, as long as they can visit the Met this afternoon. Patrick really doesn’t care what they do, where they go, as long as he gets to keep holding David’s hand. The line for admission moves quickly enough and then they’re inside.

He and his family came to the museum all those years ago, but everything looks different now. He feels giddy and childish and he tugs David along by the clasp of their hands. He’s grumbling, but he sticks close and Patrick doesn’t miss the way amusement flirts at the corners of his mouth.

They spend several hours wandering through the museum’s halls. He loves Schitt’s Creek, he truly does, but it is a little lacking in culture. Patrick relishes getting to read all the information signs, telling David the interesting parts as if he’s not reading the same sign over Patrick’s shoulder.

In the dinosaur hall he loses track of David entirely. He is vaguely aware of him following along, but he is mostly just awed by the exhibits. It’s very nerdy. With Rachel, he had to be careful. She was quick to grow impatient, quick to whine and want to go. David gives him the time that he needs to really soak everything in.

This man. Patient and sweet, with Patrick at least. He extends a hand back behind himself and David steps in close to take it. It’s quiet up here on the fourth floor. They’ve moved away from the tyrannosaurus rex and here in the hall of vertebrate origins there’s a little more privacy.

“Do you miss this? At home.”

“Sometimes,” he admits. “It’s better now there’s you. Back when I only really knew Ray I did kind of crave intellectual conversation.”

David will watch all of his documentaries with him, even the ones about the ocean. Sure he often hides his face against Patrick’s shoulder and his panicked hands come up to flutter helplessly, but he sits right beside him.

“I never would have guessed that Ray wouldn’t fulfil you.” David tilts his head in teasing and presses his lips together.

“What about you?”

“I think at the start of this week, my answer would have been different. But no. I don’t miss anything about this life, really. Not anymore.”

Patrick kisses David’s cheek because he’s close, and he loves him. What he wanted for this trip was for David to experience all of the comforts of his old life, but this? Hearing that he doesn’t need them anymore, that his life with Patrick in their home is fulfilling enough? That’s even better.


	7. chapter seven

For a while they had debated heading across to The Met, but two museums in one day seems a little much. They spent hours in the AMNH and Patrick feels glutted with culture. His eyes are still adjusting to how bright it is outside, so he’s allowing David to tug him along by the grip of their hands. They’re out of the subway now and Tribeca is loud and busy. He’s not quite hungover, but he isn’t his best self either. He is very grateful for his sunglasses and his boyfriend.

They’re going to Bubby’s, apparently. The museum has made them both starving and cranky with it, so they’re not talking much. Patrick knows better than to try and make conversation with David before he’s eaten. He won’t ask what the restaurant is or how long until they’re there.

Today is their last full day here, and he doesn’t want them to be cantankerous and unkind to one another.

The restaurant is cool and not too crowded, the lunch rush apparently over with. It means that their food arrives quickly and he watches David visibly soften as he eats his steak sandwich.

“What was a normal day like? When you were here,” he asks.

Last night has made him curious. All of those people - the person that David turned into around them - he can’t imagine a low key evening watching television.

“Sleep till the afternoon, usually.” David takes a sip of his green juice. His eyes are on his plate, and Patrick isn’t sure whether he’s shy about this or he’s just that hungry. “And then. . .parties. Clubbing. Socialising. You know.”

He doesn’t, and they both know it, but Patrick nods anyway.

“Did you date much?”

“Dated a lot,” David confirms. “But not usually the same person more than once or twice. Couldn’t make anything stick.”

“I’m stuck.”

Patrick reaches across the table for David’s hand and knots their fingers together. Everything’s coming out a little clumsily, but he wants to make sure that David gets it. He’s not put off by who David used to be when he lived here. It’s endearing, almost. David has grown so much since coming to Schitt’s Creek.

“This one’s going to stick,” he tries again.

“I don’t regret any of those wrong relationships. I’m glad they happened, so that I would know what the right relationship was when I finally found it.”

It’s very unlike David to get out one uninterrupted, cohesive sentence. Patrick is surprised, but he’s careful not to let it show on his face.

“That better be me.”

“I don’t know,” David glances off to his right, but he’s still watching Patrick from the corner of his eye. “Our server is pretty cute, wouldn’t you say?”

He grumbles, but he’s so pleased. His hand is still in David’s and he squeezes. Their server _is_ cute, actually, the kind of cute you only get in New York or Los Angeles. Patrick wonders if he’s an actor or a musician, if he’s come here to try and make it in the big city.

“Uh, I was kidding.” David kicks Patrick’s shin beneath the table. “Stop ogling. Right in front of my salad.”

He does only have salad left on his plate, but still. “What’s that?”

“It’s a meme.” He expects an eye roll, but David is smiling with such fondness that Patrick’s face gets hot.

Back out on the street Patrick reaches for David’s hand to hold again. It’s not that they can’t hold hands at home; they just don’t really stroll along the street like this. It’s not the done thing in this city, but they’re careful to leave enough space for people to pass around them.

They’re headed downtown, to the 9/11 memorial. It was Patrick’s suggestion to go see it, and David had quietly confessed that he had been in the city on that day. Eighteen years old, living away from his family for the first time.

The clutch of panic had come around Patrick’s throat and he had held David for a long moment, his face against the curve of his boyfriend’s neck. He can’t even begin to imagine what that must have been like. Patrick didn’t push for any more information, for once choosing not to demand emotional honesty of David.

The memorial is quiet. Busy, but most everyone is somber and introspective. There are a couple of tourists taking pictures, which David scowls at. They walk the perimeter of the south pool, watching the way the water cascades down the sides of the sunken square.

“There’s a rose in that one,” Patrick says.

The names of the victims are carved out of the parapet and one of the names in front of them has a white rose in the centre. David is a couple of feet away but he comes to Patrick’s side then and curls his arm around Patrick’s.

“The staff put them there. It’s that person’s birthday, today.”

Grief makes Patrick bow his head, the breath caught in his chest. Now that he’s looking, he can see a couple of other roses rising up from various places. There are close to three thousand names here, so there must be at least one birthday every single day.

“David, if you. . .”

“I know.”

That _what if_ makes him cold with terror, but David’s warm body is beside him. He kisses Patrick’s cheek and Patrick tilts his face towards the press of his boyfriend’s lips. They’re safe, he knows that. Especially in Schitt’s Creek, where nothing ever happens. Still he can’t help but dwell on the possibilities.

“I think we should go up to the observatory,” Patrick suggests.

It’s looming over them right now, One World Trade Center. The tallest building in the western hemisphere, and when Patrick tilts his head back to try and see the top of it the vertiginous rushing in his ears makes him take a stumbling step.

“I know you’re into me, but we’re in public,” David says darkly and directly into his ear. He didn’t shave this morning, and the erotic scrape of his stubble against Patrick’s smoother cheek makes him shiver.

“Let’s do it.”

“Well, I-”

“Don’t say you never,” Patrick interrupts. He untangles himself enough that he can turn and look David in the face. “You definitely have.”

“Not _outside_.”

David’s mouth twists in something that might be amusement or discomfort. Patrick loves this, how David always looks like he’s full up with a secret he can’t believe he gets to keep. He wants to kiss him, but it feels disrespectful to do that here.

Instead, he takes David’s hand again. He makes to lead him away, and then realises he isn’t actually sure which way to go to get to the observatory itself. David takes the lead and they skirt the edge of the north pool. There’s a line, which he expected and isn’t mad about. Patrick has always been fairly laid back about this sort of stuff, and being with David only amplifies that. One of them needs to be the calm one, and he’s quite sure that descriptor has never been applied to any of the Roses.

Anyway, he doesn’t mind standing in line. Not when he gets to do it with David. He has his phone out and he’s showing Patrick all of the photographs he’s taken so far during their trip. There are a lot. David’s strategy for documenting anything is apparently to take one thousand photos of every point of interest and then weed through them later and pick out the ones that turned out well.

“Oh, God, look at this one.”

He shows Patrick a selfie he had taken of the two of them. Patrick doesn’t remember it being taken, and he isn’t actually looking at the camera, but David is. Well. One of his eyes.

“What happened? Did you have a baby stroke?” His voice is light with teasing, flirtatious, and it earns him the disgruntled press of David’s mouth to his.

“You should consider it a great honour that I let you see bad pictures of me.”

“I’ve seen you asleep, so.” Patrick shrugs. David’s mouth opens on a high-pitched noise of affront, but Patrick carries on before he can get to the acerbic remark he’s clearly working on. “There are no bad pictures of you.”

David scrolls for a second and then lifts his phone to show Patrick. The lighting isn’t great, and the picture is out of focus. It’s not the most flattering angle, sure, but. . .it’s David. He’s funny, and smart, and gentle when he feels like it. All of that makes him so beautiful to Patrick.

He nudges the phone aside and steps in close. David’s free hand comes up to cup the back of Patrick’s neck and he kisses him, tries to put into it everything he’s afraid to say. That he’s gorgeous now, and that he can’t wait to watch David grow old. To look at him in twenty years, thirty, and see their life together creased at the corners of his eyes and mouth.

“Line’s moving,” David murmurs against Patrick’s lips when they separate.

They behave themselves after that. Things move quickly, and before they know it they’re in the elevator ready to go all the way up to the observatory itself. As the elevator ascends to floor 102, an animation of the construction of Manhattan plays on the walls of the car. Patrick is arrested by it, awed, and he fumbles for David’s hand beside him.

It’s amazing, the way the city rises from farmland and forest. Trinity Church appears at the very end of the seventeenth century and remains there, changing forms a couple of times but always in the same spot. No one in the elevator makes a sound. Even David is silent and still.

His body feels strange when they step out of the elevator car. They are well over a thousand feet in the air, but there’s no view to the outside yet so it almost feels like they could be underwater. There’s a screen that shows footage of New York as it is today in all of its noise and splendour.

And then the screen lifts. Patrick gasps. Everybody gasps.

The view is unlike anything he’s ever seen. He is so grateful for David’s hand in his. After a minute or two they’re allowed to move around, to walk the full circumference of the observation deck. David points out various buildings to him, the Brooklyn and Manhattan bridges.

“This is the highest I’ve ever been,” Patrick says.

One eyebrow arches at him and David cocks his head. “Are you sure? Because I remember Stevie’s birthday. She’s not called bud for nothing.”

Patrick feels the furious pink bloom of embarrassment all the way up to his hairline. That evening a few months back they had closed the store early and locked the doors and-

Well. He had behaved entirely unlike himself. It was fun, and he doesn’t regret it, and he’s grateful to have a friend and a partner he can trust enough to let loose, but still. There’s a bit of a dissociation there, as if it was something that somebody else did.

“Have you been up here before?”

“Mm, no.” David wrinkles his nose. “It’s not something that many native New Yorkers would be caught dead doing. Like Times Square. For the tourists.”

The squirming disgust on his face makes Patrick laugh and he nods in understanding. There have been a few things he’s wanted to do, like visit the Empire State Building or the Flatiron, that David has dismissed as a _hotbed of morons_.

They’re here for David, for his birthday, so Patrick has gone along with whatever he’s wanted to do. This was the only thing on his list.

The crowd of people that rode up with them have dispersed a bit and they have some privacy. David wraps his arms around Patrick and rests his chin at his shoulder. He leans back against the solid warmth of David’s chest and covers David’s hands in his. A kiss at the edge of his jaw makes him shiver.

He feels hollowed out with gratitude, enough that he could go to his knees. The whole city, alive with possibility, stretches out ahead of them until it blurs at the horizon. David is still murmuring to him, and he is really trying to listen, but something is filling him slowly. Warming him from the inside.

It’s certainty.

He wants to marry this man.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hello on Twitter, I'm @reallybeanie


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